


But... but that’s a genocide!

by AFamiliarWitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Death Eaters, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28406274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFamiliarWitch/pseuds/AFamiliarWitch
Summary: Stephen Avery isn’t really sure what the Death Eaters stand for, but he’s here and he’s going to do his best!
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	But... but that’s a genocide!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magicspacehole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicspacehole/gifts).



> Thanks to [jammerific](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jammerific/profile) for the Beta work!

There were many words that one could use to describe Stephen Avery.  _ Slow _ was one,  _ dim-witted _ another.  _ No son of mine _ was a phrase that his father had favoured, but Stephen had shown him!

Or at least he would have, if Avery Sr hadn’t died some years before.

No matter, because Avery Jr was  _ ready _ . This was  _ his time to shine _ , and he would make his dead dad proud by following his footsteps and entering the service of Lord Voldemort himself. He would help to… help to…

Stephen frowned into the mirror above his bathroom sink, furrowing his brow as he tried to remember the manifesto that Lucius Malfoy had been trying to drill into his head for weeks now. Ah, yes,  _ he would help to preserve the sanctity of the magic that flowed through the veins of the purest blood. _ Whatever  _ that _ meant.

He pulled up his sleeve and admired the Dark Mark that had been branded into his skin the night before. Although, perhaps  _ admired _ was the wrong word. Purebloods weren’t supposed to get tattoos, and he was very confused by this divergence from what he’d been taught. His attempt at questioning the ceremony had been met with a scorching glare from Lucius and a sore foot after Severus had stomped directly on his instep.

Really, if he couldn’t even ask the Dark Lord a simple  _ question _ then what kind of leader  _ was _ Voldemort?

Well, no matter. Everyone that Stephen spoke to insisted that the Dark Lord was going to prevail, and Stephen wanted to be on the winning side. At school he’d been small and stupid, but there was enough Slytherin in him to see how some of the other boys were untouchable, and he’d all but grovelled for their protection. Now those boys were  _ men _ , and they had told him that the Dark Lord was the way of the future.

So now he was a Death Eater, going on his first official Death Eater mission. He pulled on his black cloak, lifting his hood over his head before he remembered he needed his mask too.  _ That _ wouldn’t have been a good first impression.

Only a short time later he’d Apparated to the meeting point.

“The Muggleborns are  _ protesting _ ,” Lucius said, his glee muffled from behind his mask. “We’re going to teach them a  _ lesson _ .” There were others here, but Stephen didn’t know them by name, and their masks concealed all of their faces. He adjusted his nervously, feeling woefully unprepared. 

“So what, exactly-” he started to ask, but Lucius shushed him impatiently.

“The Dark Lord will reward us handsomely for our deeds here tonight,” Lucius continued, now loudly enough that the others could hear. “And any who fail… well, you know what the Dark Lord’s displeasure looks like,” he finished ominously.

Stephen shifted nervously.  _ He _ didn’t know what the Dark Lord’s displeasure looked like. Would Voldemort yell at him in front of everyone? He hoped not. His father had done that, often, and it was very embarrassing.

Lucius was obviously in charge tonight, and he shuffled them into groups, directing them on how to surround the protesters. Stephen stayed with Lucius as he was told. He was  _ very  _ good at following orders. Then, before he could try to ask again what he was meant to be  _ doing _ , they were charging into Diagon Alley, and the world erupted into chaos.

Witches and wizards began screaming as the bright acidic light of spells flooded the alley. Stephen realised with a jolt that the other Death Eaters were casting Avada Kedavras left and right, indiscriminately cutting down anyone not in Death Eater garb. He stumbled over his long robes, nearly dropping his wand, and Lucius gripped his arm tightly. “Attack, you absolute pillock!” the taller man screeched before shoving Stephen toward the melee.

From there, everything was a blur. Stephen knew that he cast his own curses, but never saw whether or not he hit anyone. He tripped again, more than once, but managed to not fall. The air was thick with screams and the crackle of magic, the shapes of bodies only blurs around him.

Then, suddenly, someone grabbed him tightly by the arm and he felt his insides twist as he was Apparated away.

Once his disorientation cleared, he realised that he was outside of Malfoy Manor with Lucius still holding his arm. The older man ripped off his mask, his face triumphant, and Stephen took his off as well with some trepidation. None of that had  _ felt _ like a success, but Lucius seemed to feel differently.

“What…  _ happened _ …” Stephen gasped.

“Aurors,” Lucius said, but that didn’t really clear anything up in Stephen’s mind.

“But  _ why _ were we after Muggleborns?” he finally managed to ask.

He didn’t quite understand the look that crossed Lucius’ face. He seemed to be both befuddled  _ and _ angry, which didn’t make sense at all.

A strangled sort of noise escaped as Lucius’ mouth moved, and then finally he managed to form some words. “Are you dead from the neck up?  _ You’re a Death Eater you absolute idiot _ ! Our  _ goal _ is to preserve the sanctity of the magical community-”

“What does that even  _ mean _ ?” Stephen finally shrieked, overwhelmed.

Lucius took a slow breath through his nose, nostrils flaring dangerously. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and sent a chill down Stephen’s spine. “Are you trying to tell me that you’ve joined our cause without understanding that our goal is to rid the magical community of all blood traitors and Mudbloods?”

Stephen’s mouth moved soundlessly, fishlike for a moment, before he blurted out the first thing he thought of. “But- but that’s a  _ genocide _ !”

Whatever cutting thing Lucius was about to say in response Stephen never got to hear because their Marks suddenly burned; a summons from their Lord. Lucius levelled a steely grey look at Stephen, told him to get himself together, and Apparated away.

Stephen took a deep breath, preparing himself to report to his leader. His great, glorious leader. His genocidal, maniacal leader. He groaned, pulled out his wand, and twisted into the air.


End file.
